Monstrous Ranch Ch. 19

Senya's dreams were a whirlwind of teasing honeybee-bottomed bimbos, rough-tongued catgirls, honey-drenched Thriae, and adoring puppy sprites. It was the latter that he eventually woke up within, immersed in their arms. Their tongues eased him, settled his troubled thoughts, kept him in a happy state of constant bliss. He came again and again to their steadfast lapping, lost in lusty, stupid love.

Jerrod was the one to wake him, and he smiled down at Senya as he dragged his limp, exhausted body from the sprites' arms. "C'mon, boss. That's enough fun for the night."

"Mm..." Senya clung to the brawny stockman, still lost in lusty trance as Jerrod carried him down the stairs.

It was only around the arrival at the dining table that his wakefulness started to drift back to him. Jerrod set him down, and Senya straightened slightly, his eyes still half-closed. He smelled eggs, bacon, sausage, and maple syrup. Unconsciously, he licked his lips.

Senya had asked Bobbin about their stores of meat once. The meat wasn't from the Ranch (thank heavens), but from feral pigs in the area. He was pretty sure it was a similar story with the eggs. He wasn't sure about the syrup.

The smell of the tea helped to wake him up a little more, out of surprise as much as anything else. He blinked at the steaming mug. "No milk today?" he asked. "And... no fruit?"

"Nah." Jerrod grinned. "That's for Ranch work, that stuff is."

"Oh." Senya blinked at the waffles, then reached for his fork. "So is today... not Ranch work?"

A soft, slender hand placed it in his palm. He looked up and found himself staring deep into the emerald eyes of Valina.

The catgirl was sitting on the floor next to his chair, smiling up at him with bright excitement. Her belled collar was silent, and she was as naked and docile as ever. She giggled, taking her hand away and brushing back her hair. She held the stare a bit too long, though.

"Nah, nah," Jerrod said, chuckling as he came back with a plate laden with meat. "Today, Master? It's Market Day."

~~~~

The packing proceeded quite swiftly, really. Master seemed confused. Of course he was. He wanted to know where Bobbin was, but the explanation only seemed to partially satisfy him.

The hob was, of course, busy dealing with the fleece sprites, but Valina was sure there was another reason Bobbin didn't feel like talking to Master today. The hob could be very sensitive, and yesterday's little spat had shaken her. And reminded her how hard it was to keep even the most well-intentioned of secrets from her dear little Master.

Luckily, Valina was there to keep his mind off of such exhausting worries. She accompanied him as he and Jerrod loaded the cart, and licked him to babbling bliss whenever he got too talkative or slowed things down. Jerrod gave her a few pets on the head for that, and she beamed up at him innocently. She had been a very good girl the last couple days—as far as the stockman knew.

She waved goodbye as the cart drove off. The catgirl's eyes glinted.

Senya would be one of the kindest Masters she'd ever had, probably. He would spoil her rotten. The adorable boytoy loved to make her cum, and praised her more generously than any other Master she'd known. She could be a very happy pet for him. The Kitten half of her was very tempted by that vision of placidity.

But Valina had other plans.

"Master has enjoyed his sweet things." The catgirl giggled, leaning back against the rough wall. "I do not think even the second son—the one with the whorelip, you remember?—indulged so much. And so dangerously." She gave a husky little growl.

"Milk and honey. Prisoner fruit. Alraune nectar. Oh... and has dear little Bobbi really been leaving him so long with the puppies?"

"Oh, yes." Valina grinned. "She has to. It's the only way to keep him out of trouble."

Mommy gave a slow, leisurely smile, leaning back in her chair and gently tugging at her nipples. The holstaur let out a happy sigh. "Oh... I had wondered how that darling boy managed to resist me, even with fairy help. The puppies. Should we worry about them, do you think?"

Valina let out a short laugh. "That's why it is best to get him outside the house. It was very silly of Valina to seek him inside, so close to their hearing."

Mommy licked her lips. "He would have been finished all the same in my arms. Or the honeyed handmaidens', even."

"The fairies interfered." Valina gritted her sharp teeth. "Little flitterers have meddlesome minds. Do they even know how hard it was to slip that much pure stuff into his glass without the bell giving me away? Poor Kitten could barely stop herself from drinking it down on the spot, too. All for nothing."

"Yes, I do think Tricin could do more to manage her little flock." Mommy sighed, stretching slightly. "But... well, that's why we're using these new measures. The fairies can't do anything to help him then." She pouted, one eyebrow arching. "Don't you agree?"

"Yes," Valina admitted. "Scarlet's plan was best. He'll be ours soon enough. And then..." Her heart fluttered slightly, and she felt a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Then we can really make some changes around here."

"Wonderful. I'm so glad you're happy, Kitten." Mommy gave a gentle smirk.

"Oh, yes." Valina rubbed her neck, feeling that hated collar, hearing its hateful jingle. "Soon, nobody can tell me what to do."

"Of course not," Mommy cooed.

"We'll run things. I'll be free. In control."

"You'll be able to do whatever you want, Kitten," Mommy purred, pinching a nipple until a bit of milk came dripping out.

Valina licked her lips.

"And..." The holstaur's voice was sultry and sweet as she spread her arms wide, letting her tremendous breasts bounce back down, still oozing slightly. "... does my little Kitten want some milk?" she asked sweetly, eyelashes fluttering.

Kitten blinked. Her eyelashes fluttered in time with Mommy's. Her head swam, and it was like a switch had come over her mind. She only had a moment to feel confused before that confusion melted into warm, wet obedience.

She fell to her knees and crawled up to Mommy, staring up at her with wide eyes. "Mommy?" she whimpered. "Kitten is... is thirsty!"

"Are you really?" Mommy asked, her pale eyebrows arching with ill-concealed delight.

"Yes!" Kitten mewled, rubbing between her legs with one hand. "Kitten is... is..." She let out a mew, unable to finish the sentence.

The holstaur beamed, and she reached down to help the mewing catgirl into her lap. "Then come to Mommy," she cooed in the catgirl's ear, as the catgirl's trembling lips found a nipple and began a slow, blissful suckling.

~~~~

The lust sprites didn't mind being caged, as Senya understood it. These sorts of arrangements were common—though usually a bit more on the give-and-take side, the practice of "catching" lust sprites for use in dens was frequently employed even in rural areas. It was a fair arrangement: The lust sprites got lots of mortals to delight in, and the mortal "owners" got to sell use of the sprite pits to anyone with an itch to scratch. The lust sprites usually didn't mind, as long as they weren't kept away from new playthings for too long.

And as it turned out, when they were, they really liked to play with their captors.

The cart he and Jerrod rode in—the cart Senya had come to the Ranch in, in fact—was laden with many goods from the Ambrosia Ranch. Jars filled with Thriae honey and sealed kegs of Thriae mead. Bottles of deep red wine from Scarlet's grapefields. Buckets of fresh cranberries. Canned prisoner fruit—nothing fresh, oddly enough. Boxes of hazelnuts. A small wooden crate marked simply, "Eggs" (the quotations made him a bit uneasy). Several full jugs of holstaur milk. A basket full of fresh fruit—pears, apples and stranger fruit still, which made Senya wonder where this orchard was that he had missed. And a small glass flask of maple syrup.

All-in-all, it was a true bounty for any wealthy pleasureseeker. Holstaur milk alone was a priceless beverage, and Thriae honey was so blatantly illegal, just carrying it was literally grounds for execution in many Western Plains baronies. This was a cart full of fey aphrodisiacs worth a small fortune.

And then there were the five lust sprites locked in the back of the cat. The lust sprites that had been loudly making love since before the cart had left the Ranch.

They weren't puppy sprites. The theme for this pack, Senya was pretty sure, was 'oily wrestlers', and they had been loudly smacking and slipping against one another for a while now. Each horned fey was quite fit and muscular, ideal for tackling their 'victims', but they still shared the typically nubile, absurdly sexual—and flexible—bodies that every lust sprite was known for.

And they had been channeling their lust auras full-force into the front seat of the cart for the last few hours. After hours of this intense, forced arousal, Senya was about ready to blow. Jerrod, though next to him, was totally unaffected. His amulet, of course.

Senya squirmed in his seat, rubbing through his pants as subtly as he could manage. "A-are you sure I can't—"

"Yup." Jerrod gave a slight chuckle, looking over at his sweating, lip-biting boss with sympathy. "I know, Master. We'll be in town soon enough. But you can't fuck 'em."

"B-but..." Senya's cock was practically crying out for mercy. This sort of denial was unbearable, especially after weeks of being practically spoiled on pleasure back at the Ranch. It was even worse that he had to sit next to Jerrod, who was only wearing a simple brown vest. Senya wanted to jump into the stockman's muscular arms almost as he wanted to jump into the back of the cart.

"The lust sprites need to be primed. That means they can't have been with a mortal for the last few hours. Makes 'em worth more, trust me." Jerrod shrugged. "We handled a lot of lust sprites and jelly maids back in the days."

Senya, in his ragged state, took a moment to register that Jerrod was talking about his days as a pirate. He swallowed, shifting in his seat, feeling his cock straining desperately against his trousers. "Can we... can we please stop the—"

"Sure." Jerrod tugged on the reins, bringing the cart to a slow halt. "Go make with the touches. Just don't go far."

For the fourth time that day, Senya hopped off the cart and shuffled into the bushes. He took Jerrod's advice, remembering how dangerous these bamboo forests could be, but he at least tried to put some visual distance between the two of them.

He was still close enough to feel the lust sprites' blazing aura, though, and he was panting with desire as he stroked himself. After so many weeks in the Ranch's care, it almost felt alien to have to rely on his own hands. The jolts of pleasure that coursed through him were nothing compared to lying with the fey.

And especially to submitting to them.

He bit his lip as thoughts of Mommy's breasts and Kitten's teasing tongue brought him to a whimpering orgasm. Pleasure sparkled through him like fine droplets of rain during a drought, fleeting, almost mocking. He stood there, continuing to stroke, trying to contain his faint whines.

He heard a distant branch snap. His eyes shot open.

It took him a moment to recognize the source. He squinted. Off in the distance, he could just make out a dark-skinned man in a pale cloak stopping next to a particularly dense clump of bamboo and undo his trousers.

The man relieved himself there of a much baser need, whistling softly as he gazed up into the branches. He seemed completely oblivious to Senya's presence.

The man was unarmed, but Senya took no chances. He took a deep breath to steady himself, redid his trousers, and returned to the furnace of lust to brave a few more hours of torment.

~~~~

Market Day was a surprisingly busy affair in the small village. Senya was astounded at just how many merchants had arrived—many all the way from the Lacratian continent! A pair of dopterines walked by, their antennae twitching rapidly as they chattered in their native tongue. A goblin maid lounged behind a food cart, shooting passersby—especially men—coy smiles and lewd winks.

Every now and then, a young man would stop at her stall and start talking to her. After testing some free samples, he would be invited to the back of her cart to make a purchase. Each time, he would accept.

Three men had vanished into the goblin maid's cart so far today, and Senya had been here for scarcely an hour.

Upon arrival, it had quickly become apparent that they were the primary attraction of this bustling market. Wealthy men and women—most of whom, Senya couldn't help but notice, humans and elves from Lacra—clustered around the stall like fruit flies to purchase tiny vials of honey, little jars of prisoner fruit jam. It was almost too much for Senya to keep up with, though with the lust sprites secured in a distant tent, at least he didn't have their power driving his attention span into mush.

Their customers passed over in exchange not money, but magic. Senya politely accepted all sorts of payment Jerrod told him was sufficient—scrolls and alchemical potions, enchanted gemstones, magic beans. A few offered twisted items of silver. Hypnotic tools for fey. That made Senya feel a little queasy, but they were enough to buy two whole "Eggs" (whatever those were).

A tall, slender elf with piercing silver eyes actually offered a blessed silver arrow. This elicited a great deal of excitement in the stall, and Jerrod was quick to take over the haggling process. In the end, she walked away with an entire keg's worth of Thriae honey and the bottle of syrup in exchange.

Senya wasn't much of a salesperson, but as a carpenter, he knew how to haggle, and he knew enough from his sister to keep up in conversations about magic. And he knew enough to know that he had never seen this much concentrated wealth before in his life.

The lust sprites commanded some of the highest prices, and nobody even tried to purchase them until late afternoon, when many of the other stall owners were packing up. The goblin maid was gone, her men acquired for... whatever purpose she had for them.

It was just Senya and Jerrod, a few food stalls, a one-eyed skittergoblin who appeared to be selling gancanagh pipes—and the angry glares of the locals. Come to think of it, Senya wasn't sure a single townsperson had even visited the marketplace, much less tried to buy anything.

It felt a little strange.

"What breed?" Senya jumped, whirling to see a very tall, very pale man with long dark hair and a fine felt bowler. It took him a moment to recognize the ghoulish figure, and his eyes widened—it was Great-Uncle Yvun's lawyer!

The lawyer gave no indication he recognized Senya. He just rapped on the stall with his cane. "What breed?" he repeated.

"Um..." Senya's mouth was dry. "You mean the lust sprites?"

"Have you any other girls for sale?" The lawyer arched an eyebrow.

Senya stuck his tongue into his cheek. "... no?"

"Then of course I mean the lust sprites. Keep up boy." The lawyer's eyes narrowed. "What breed?"

Senya cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. The lawyer's stare made him feel like he had bugs crawling over his skin. "They're, um... very oily. And... gropey. Muscular."

"Mm." The lawyer reached into his pocket and drew out a very thin card. His fingers pressed against the sides, and before Senya's eyes, the card started to 'unfold'. It grew larger and larger from his spidery fingers' rapid efforts, drawing it further and further out until it was roughly the size of a normal sheet of paper. Senya realized he was using some sort of highly precise illusion magic. "Yes. I have orders for 'puppy' lust sprites, 'dumb blonde' lust sprites, 'succubus' lust sprites..." He looked up eyes narrowed. "They speak good Western? Like you and I?"

"I suppose so." Senya bit his lip, uncertain what the lawyer meant. "I mean, they're lust sprites, they're pretty dumb."

"Yes, yes." The man was clearly getting impatient. "But they do not speak with the accent. 'Eastern' sprites are in very high demand in Nyaska right now. The exoticism, you see. Many enjoy a 'stupid Easterner', you see? Very high demand." He flicked a hand, a quill appearing with it, and he made a quick jot. "But if they don't speak with the accent, it scarcely matters. That breed is more commonly found by the borders, anyway. Hm." He gnawed on the quill, then made a note. "Demand for 'slippery' lust sprites isn't terribly strong, but there is a buyer who'll accept those if you haven't got any 'Eastern schoolgirl' sprites. Which you haven't."

Senya blanched. "W-what? I beg your pardon?"

The lawyer looked up, and seemed to misinterpret Senya's shock as confusion. He waved the quill. "You see, they have constructed a sprite pit with a tentacle theme, and the 'schoolgirl' is the most desired object for that display. But a slippery lust sprite can have a similar attitude, with appropriate reconditioning. Their clients will settle for either. Do you understand, Mr. Wetherdean?"

"Y-yes?" Senya felt a curdling in his gut, but he tried not to show it. "So you're... buying for sprite dens."

The lawyer's lip quirked upwards. "Your great-uncle provided a very reliable stock, young man. We trust that the selection will be larger next winter."

"It was a slow season," Jerrod said, butting into the conversation. "The conditioning process to keep the sprites from, y'know, breaking their hosts' minds got slowed down by the old Master's death, so we only had five ready for market."

"Naturally." The lawyer gave a brisk nod. "Well, I will take the five. They're in there?" He gestured to the sealed tent.

"That's right."

"Excellent." The lawyer smiled, and with a flash of his fingers, a small slip of paper fell onto the counter. "That map signals the locations of several nearby fey. Ah, troublemakers, of course. There is a lavender dryad in the hills of particular value, you see." His smile was ugly. Cold and thin like a knife. He bowed, rapped the counter once more with his cane, and walked over to the tent.

Senya heard him clap, and the tent suddenly surged up into the air, as if lifted by an invisible giant. It took on a teardrop shape—the sprites inside squealed in confusion—and followed as the lawyer walked off.

Senya grimaced. Even that man's walk was disturbing. His knees rose in sharp and deliberate strides, like a heron hunting for frogs.

Jerrod was whistling, poring over the map with a big grin. "Aw, this is nice. Lavender dryad, sure, sure, but wow. There's a pearl sprite couple by the coast! That's good value. And good fucking. I've heard stories..."

"Does this..." Senya took a deep breath, and a step away from the stall. "Does anything about this feel... wrong to you?"

Jerrod paused in his examinations, his smile dropping slightly. "Eh? What about? They're lust sprites, boss. Surely even you've visited a sprite den or two."

"I mean... sure. Of course!" Senya gave an uncertain nod. "But that's different. I know lust sprites don't mind the dens. But I mean..." He gestured to the supplies. "We're just selling what the prisoners make. And we're selling the prisoners! That... that doesn't seem like a very prisony thing to do."

Jerrod turned to face Senya, tucking the map away. "Eh, why not? We're providing a service. Why shouldn't we profit a little from it on the side? Helps keep the Ranch afloat."

A cool wind blew westward, and Jerrod looked up, clearly noting the darkening sky. Senya bit his lip.

He wanted to disagree, but he just couldn't put his finger on what about it all felt so wrong. He rubbed his eyes, wishing his puppies were here to ease his mind.